Page 70 of The Situation
I laugh again.
“How did he take finding out you’re not Kelly Kapowski?” she asks.
“I think he was shocked. Probably a little irritated. But I was shocked and irritated, too, that he withheld his last name from me—which, may I point out to you like I did to him, was a much bigger deal.”
“And let me go out on a limb here and say that you have decided to take this once-in-a-lifetime situation and have an adverse reaction to it.”
I give her a look, warning her to tread lightly, and take another large gulp of wine.
“I’m starting to think you enjoy sabotaging yourself,” she says.
“It’s not that. You haven’t seen him, Jamie. He’s too perfect. He’s too … gah!” I get to my feet, unable to sit still any longer. “He’s trouble—a walking heartbreak that I don’t need in my life.”
“Maybe you do need it.”
My eyes bulge. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugs noncommittally. “When have you ever lived dangerously?”
“I just took a date with Curtis, for fuck’s sake. That’s living dangerously if I ever heard it.”
“No, that was just … again, self-sabotage.”
I roll my eyes. “I had a one-night stand. That was dangerous, and that’s what got me here.”
“Welcome to the real world where, statistically speaking—because I did look this up—nearly half of all women our age have had one.”
She pauses, giving me time to refute her claim. But I don’t.
“Listen, Ror. As your best friend, I’m saying this with love. But take a step back and look at this from an outside perspective. You’ve told me since the day you left Kent that you want to do something different with your life. Now, you’ve done it, and you’re scared. New things are supposed to be scary.”
I exhale, wishing I could argue that, too.
“You have had more spark, more energy—more passion—in the past few days than I might’ve ever seen you possess in all the years I’ve known you. You’ve given me every indication that you like this billionaire bad boy,” she says. “Am I reading this wrong?”
Everything in me wants to say no. I want to deny that she’s right and pretend I don’t want Tate. But that would be a big fat lie.
I do want him. I’m not surprised by that, because I knew I would. From the moment he turned to me and smiled, I knew I was playing with fire. But I can’t see anything ending well between the two of us, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I have to protect myself.
No one else is going to do it, that’s for damn sure.
“Yes, I like him,” I admit because it’s pointless to lie to my best friend. “But that doesn’t mean it’s smart or healthy.”
“You have to start trusting yourself.”
“I do. That’s why I’m putting up barriers and holding them tight.”
“Right. Because people put up barriers because they trust themselves so damn much. Got it.”
I glare at her.
“Look, I’m on your side no matter how goofy you get,” she says. “And I do agree that you have to be smart when it comes to men.” She leans forward. “But I also think you have to be smart when it comes to you. This guy, Tate, has been great to you, and you’re denying yourself fun … why?”
No matter what I say, it’s going to sound dumb. So I don’t bother.
After a long soak in the bath and a couple of cocktails on Sunday night, I called Jamie and filled in the gaps from ourwalk of shameconversation on Saturday morning. I was relaxed and a little freer with my thoughts and feelings than I probably should’ve been. I think it painted a picture that might be a little too … accurate.
“I’m not denying myself anything,” I say. “I’m just giving myself new opportunities for adventure.”
